Dear Mira, this is wisdom's part: Thus, peacefully, through life we'll go ; And mingle with the dead : While conscience, like a faithful friend, SECTION 12. Trust in Providence. REGARD the world with cautious eye, On God for all events depend; You cannot want when God's your Friend. Weigh well your part, and do your best; Leave to your Maker all the rest. The hand which form'd thee in the womb, Guides from the cradle to the tomb, Can the fond mother slight her boy? In what he grants, and what denies : You say that troubles intervene ; ધ Of Heav'n ask virtue, wisdom, health; But never let thy pray'r be wealth. If food are thine, (though little gold,) And raiment to repel the cold; Such as may nature's wants suffice, Not what from pride and folly rise: If soft the motions of thy soul, And a calm conscience crowns the whole Add but kind friends to all this store, You can't, in reason, wish for more, Ꮇ Ꮞ SECTION 13. Power of religion. OF Pleasure's gilded baits beware, Religion painful truths may tell; That whispers peace when storms invade, Nor give her less than all your heart. To rapture, and eternal day. SECTION 14. Thoughts on new-year's day; written in 1782, SEVENTEEN hundred eighty-one Is now for ever pass'd: But whether life's uncertain scene Or whether death shall come between, Or whether sickness, pain, or health, Or whether poverty or wealth; One thing I know, that needful 'tis Since ev'ry season spent amiss Too well I know what precious hours And oh! I find my mortal pow'rs Earth rolls her rapid seasons round, But virtue is with glory crown'd, Though suns and stars expire. What awful thoughts! what truths sublime! What useful lessons these! O! let me well improve my time! O! let me die in peace! SECTION 15. Hymn on new-year's day, LORD of my life, inspire my song! My birth, my fortune, friends, and health, Teach me to practise what I know. Ten thousand favours claim my song, But Oh! with infinite surprise, When unimprov'd the former score, Lord, wilt thou trust me still with more? Thousands this period hop'd to see: Denied to thousands, granted me! Thousands! that weep, and wish, and pray, For those rich hours I throw away! SECTION 16. On vanity of dress and conversation, Is it a thing of good report, To squander life and time away? To cut the hours of duty short, While toys and follies waste the day? |